


Sentiment

by Bella (bella_azzurri)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other, Pre-Slash, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella_azzurri/pseuds/Bella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Skyfall. M got a few things right, she just didn’t tell 007 about it. Plays with the idea of Q and M's relationship. One line borrowed from Goldeneye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to [Annie D](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D) for being a wonderful, patient and (most importantly) critical beta.

_"I was right about one thing."_

***

Supposed she was referring to that entire bloody mess, Bond thought. He stood, holding the umbrella, because while one would say it was appropriate that it would rain today, this was London. It always rained.

He stood towards the back, perhaps ten rows from the front, watching, but not listening, as the priest read out the eulogy. He could see Mallory up front, but most of his colleagues surrounded him, including Moneypenny, who was next to him. Despite the demands of the job, M still had friends and family, and there they were, gathered up front, waiting for the coffin to be lowered.

As he scanned the front of the gathering from where he stood, a mop of messy brown hair came to view.

Curious.

The priest had finished speaking. Q stepped forward first, laying a bunch of flowers on her coffin, before others began to follow suit.

Curiouser.

He followed Q with his eyes as Q walked away, head down. In that oversized parka of his, he looked more like a teenager than the head of Q-branch at MI6.

He glanced at Moneypenny, who shrugged, as Q continued walking.

***

_"And I am to be the bait?"_

_"Alright then."_

Q was rather proud of himself that he didn't even blink when he heard that. Perhaps some of who she was did pass on to him. Ten years, fifteen years ago perhaps, he would have joined in the protests. If he had been privy to it. God knows she never backed down from an argument, even if her safety had been of paramount concern.

He sat in the vast living room, holding a glass of scotch but not drinking it. He could smell the amber liquid from the glass's resting place on his lap. It was a reminder, of sorts.

She had never really been sentimental about things. Then again, he cast a sideways glance at the bookshelves lining the walls, two of which he knew, were filled with poetry books.

He wasn't very surprised when he heard a knock on the door. He paused to place the scotch on the coffee table, before heading to the front door.

"Bond."

"Q."

Q didn't say anything, just pulled the door wider to let 007 in. He shut the door, then followed him to the living room. Bond, of course, has already poured himself a drink. Q resisted the urge to roll his eyes, only walking quietly back to the armchair he’d been occupying before being interrupted, picking up his own glass of scotch along the way. Bond moved around the couch, settling himself on one end before taking a sip.

***

_"If I wanted sarcasm I would listen to my children."_

Rarely she did, if the shouting matches were any indication. They came from a good place. He let his (very much older) sisters and brother do most of that, and when he got older he would occasionally pipe up, in a quiet tone, eyes never leaving his laptop.

Their father, in retrospect, understood. He never involved himself whenever the children riled at Mummy for once again being dragged through hot coals for protecting Queen and Country, in public, no less. Helen was particularly vocal about that, forever insisting on Mummy retiring and settling into a quiet life, free from danger and public scrutiny. It wasn't as if they couldn't afford it.

It was then that Dad would say, very firmly, that everyone should settle down.

***

"Was this your home?" Bond asked.

Q lifted the glass to his lips, taking a small sip. He still grimaces at the taste of it.

"Yes," he answered, "Up until I went to university. She didn't like me being away from home."

***

"Did you bloody break into MI6?"

He looked up from his computer, where he was writing some new strings of code. He didn't notice her entering his bedroom, nor shutting the door.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him, "And don't lie to me about it. The Major said that the trace came back to this house, though you did take them halfway around the world first."

She sat on his bed, hands on her knees, "What am I to do with you, my dear?"

She probably knew the answer already. He was much brighter than any of his siblings, and his gift for technology showed at an early age. His parents never denied him whatever he asked for, and Mummy was truly impressed whenever he invented something, whether it was code or blueprints for a tracking device.

It did come with drawbacks. He was ostracized at school, bullied occasionally, and it didn't help matters that he was tiny and skinny with spectacles. She had done what she could, getting the school to test him, then accelerate him to the top form. At 14, and already doing his A-Levels. His father tutored him in English Literature after school.

"I was bored."

She sighed, "You just need to get through this year. Next year, you'll be at Cambridge. Or the Imperial College, whichever you like."

He didn't say anything. He just stood up and moved to sit next to her. He put a hand on hers.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

M looked down at his skinny hand resting hers, then looked back at him, "I don't suppose you'd mind coming in over the Christmas holidays to show us how exactly you did it, and how we might fix it?"

He grinned.

***

She had probably worked out that he’d done it on purpose, just so he had something else to do over the holidays than spend all of it working on his A-Levels.

***

Bond took another sip of his scotch, staring out at the vast windows of the living room, the rain pattering softly against the glass.

Q. Who would have thought. Well, perhaps Tanner. Bond wondered why he didn't see the relation at first. The boy was just as much of a pain as his mother. And just as cocky.

_"Of course it will, put your back into it."_

_"Why don't you come down here and put your back into it."_

He glanced at Q, who was staring at a spot on the coffee table. A little too inexperienced in the game, but this would have taught him something. If she were here, she'd give him the same bollocking she'd given her former Quartermasters for fucking up, but she always made sure they all learned a lesson from it, and that a similar incident could never happen again.

Shame the lesson ended with someone losing their mother.

***

"... so I am recommending that you be promoted to Quartermaster."

He was startled, to say the least. And worried. Some of that worry passed through his eyes.

M continued, "You are perfectly capable of taking over from the Major when he retires next week. I have absolute faith in your capabilities. If you think I'm playing favourites, I suggest you think again. Of course, you will probably need to work twice as hard to prove yourself, but I'm sure that will come as no challenge to you."

"Yes ma'am."

"You will need to secure your personal files, do what you need to do to protect yourself and all of us. You won't exist, as of next week."

"Yes ma'am."

He rose to leave.

"And I will see you for Sunday lunch."

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"Yes, Mum."

***

Q ignored the double-oh agent, wishing he would leave. He hadn’t been alone since he left the funeral, what with his siblings all back together to partake in the necessary arrangements. He’d been craving time alone ever since, and the walk from the cemetery back to his childhood home didn’t seem like enough.

And of course 007 would somehow end up here. Mummy pretended she wasn’t sentimental about the job, or it’s people, but he knew better. 007 had broken in enough times that Mummy had stopped being surprised by it.

She had mentioned that he’d broken in upon returning from the dead. He had questions, but she’d said, “We’ll talk shop tomorrow.”

What with the chaos of setting up Q-branch in their temporary headquarters, he never had the opportunity continue that particular conversation.

***

_“Well, you’re bloody well not sleeping here.”_

She turned away from Bond, walking towards the stairs to her bedroom.

Some time later, just as she pulled on her dressing gown, she heard the lock on the front door rattle softly, and a cold draft of air that carried to the upstairs hallway. She fastened her gown before heading downstairs.

Q stood at the entrance, shrugging off his parka and shaking his wet hair out. He looked up at M, who now stood at the foot of the stairs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I thought you might like some company tonight.”

Mummy smiled, “Your company is always welcome, my dear.”

He gestured to his overnight bag, “I’ll put this in my room, then I’ll make us some tea.”

As he passed her to go upstairs, he stopped to kiss her on the cheek.

***

"Bond, why are you here?" Q had turned to look at him. He didn't look as young as Bond thought he was. The messy hair and glasses still came as a bit of a shock. Not to mention the appalling wardrobe.

It was all rather different, actually. And he found that strangely attractive. Perhaps something to ponder on another day.

"To be honest, I'm not sure."

"I'll be fine, you know." Q stared at him.

Bond smiled slightly, "She said she got one thing right, before she died."

"Oh? Perhaps she thought that, but I know she got quite a few things right," Q rose from the armchair to stand by the windows.

He turned back to Bond, "It wasn't all about you, 007."

Bond raised his glass in salute.

The rain had stopped.


End file.
